


Solo

by palepinkpores



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Childbirth, F/M, MSR, Pregnant Dana Scully, Pregnant Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:47:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palepinkpores/pseuds/palepinkpores
Summary: When Mulder doesn't make it back in time, it's up to Scully to deliver their baby herself.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 7
Kudos: 56





	Solo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mastiffgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mastiffgirl/gifts).



> For Katy

**Contains graphic depictions of natural childbirth**

She was forty two weeks and a day along when it started properly. Finally. Scully hadn’t wanted to consider herself to be overdue, knowing that predicted due dates could be taken with a pinch of salt, but, as the days and nights crawled by and no baby appeared, she had begun to feel the anxious, first-time mother doubts flood her mind. These doubts were amplified by the fact that she had no one to share them with, no one to reassure and sympathise with her. She was completely alone.

Mulder had been gone for fifteen days. He had to go. According to him, there was no other way. They had been on their way to their safe place, the two of them and their squirming unborn driving for hours and hours from DC to Georgia. Occasionally, Mulder would reach over and place a palm atop of her giant orb of a belly, rubbing, rubbing, rubbing in steady reassurance as he drove them to safety.

After a countless number of comfort stops and over ten hours of driving, they had arrived in the little town. Driving slowly, they had assessed the area, the buildings, deciding where they were going to set up base, when they saw them way up ahead. Mulder had cursed aloud, knowing how careful and how vigilant he had been, how he had insisted that Scully get as much sleep as she could, knowing that she would need her strength, promising that he would make sure they weren’t being followed. Promising her he would get them to their haven, without mishap, and she would finally be able to give birth.

He performed a sharp U-turn and Scully twisted as much as she was able to, watching in the rear window of the car as they milled around outside the building they had been approaching. They didn’t seem to have noticed their arrival or their rapid departure.

“Just keep going,” she whispered.

Mulder nodded and steered them to what he hoped would be safety. How did they know where they’d been going? How had they managed to head them off?

“Call Doggett,” Mulder said, handing Scully his phone. “Tell him we need a plan-b.”

Scully made the phone call and helped Mulder to navigate to what she desperately hoped would be safety.

A further two hours passed before they finally crunched their way up the gravel driveway. Mulder slowed to a stop and applied the hand break, looking over at Scully as his stomach tied itself in guilty knots. She had removed her seatbelt a good half an hour before they arrived at the remote country house, the pressure being too much for her dangerously full bladder. She had resorted to shouting Mulder down over his continuous insistences that they stop so that she could relieve herself, insisting that it was too risky and she would just have to hold it.

She was sitting painfully straight, both hands clutching the underside of her stomach in a bid to lift the pressure it was imposing on her when he opened the passenger side door and placed a careful hand on her shoulder. Scully looked up at him with watery eyes and heaved herself from the car, waddling as quickly as her cumbersome frame allowed her and danced from foot to foot while she waited for him to retrieve the front door key from beneath a plant pot on the porch.

Wordlessly, Mulder stood aside as she hurried past him and up the stairs, feeling the relief himself as he heard her pee from the foot of the stairs. He grimaced as he realised she hadn’t even had time to close the bathroom door. Locking the front door, Mulder turned on the lamp in the hallway as the night crept over them. In the kitchen, he found the cupboards and fridge over-stocked and shook his head, wondering how he would ever go about repaying their friends for what they were doing for them.

“That was a close one,” a tired voice behind him quipped.

He turned to face her.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded just as her face crumpled and tears began to slide hotly down her cheeks.

Mulder strode across the tiles and opened his arms as she fell into his chest, her belly lodged awkwardly beneath his elbow while her tears soaked his shirt.

“We’re here now,” he soothed, kissing the crown of her head. “We’re safe.”

They had eaten something cooked from frozen that they had found in the freezer and decided not to risk contacting Doggett, Reyes or Skinner, silently acknowledging that their phones may have been tapped. Instead, they had taken a long, hot shower together and settled for an early night in each other’s arms.

It was the next morning when, having woken in a strange bed, Scully was told she was to go it alone. They weren’t Mulder’s words exactly, for they both thought he would be back in time for their son’s birth, but the blow still seemed huge at the time.

“We’re going to find them, Scully. I can’t be here, hiding, knowing they’re out there looking for us. Knowing our son’s in danger.”

He kissed her desperately and palmed her stomach as tears coursed their way down his face. Then, he was gone and Scully was alone.

Fifteen days and counting and Mulder hadn’t returned.

Two days after he left, Scully’s back had started bothering her. Nothing agonisingly major, more of an uncomfortable, ever-present niggle, but, in hindsight, she could see that it had been the beginning. In those days, as strange as it was to refer to them as ‘those days’, considering it was only thirteen days earlier, she imagined that he’d be gone for no longer than five days or she would receive a phone call confirming otherwise. However, as the sun continued to rise and set and she found herself with only her large, unborn son to talk to, the silence and solitude were suffocating.

The house had come with a fully equipped nursery filled with everything one would need for a newborn baby boy. Somehow, Doggett had thought of everything. She attempted to create a domesticated normality for herself, reasoning that she would never get the time back, the anticipation of her first born child. She washed the clothes she had found in the dresser and the little wardrobe, although she could smell soft laundry detergent on them and knew someone had already done it for her, it helped her to familiarise herself with each little garment. It helped her to pretend that she’d bought them with Mulder and they lived in this secluded house in the middle of nowhere, where they were choosing to raise their child. She washed and organised their baby’s supplies all with her gun firmly holstered to her hip, with the doors and windows bolted shut, always.

She had begun meal prep with gusto a week before the birth, knowing that, even if Mulder did make it back to her in time, they would be exhausted and cooking from scratch would be near enough impossible. Gradually, the freezer became full: casseroles, lasagnes, risottos, stews, soups all lined the shelves, portioned into the many Tupperware tubs she found stacked in the pantry.

***

Scully stood on the porch, barefoot and sipping a cup of honeyed tea. It was early, just after five o’clock in the morning and the sun had begun to rise. The frost of winter was beginning to dissipate and the glimmers of spring were becoming more prominent with each passing day. Scully watched as the sky turned a chilly yellow and shivered under her thin, cotton pyjamas and dressing gown. She was finding it increasingly difficult to sleep each night she left her due date further and further behind. The discomfort of carrying her overcooked boy was partly to blame, but it seemed her ever-increasing bouts of anxiety were the root of the problem.

She found herself rolling from side to side, inhibited by her huge stomach, desperate to roll over completely and sleep on her front. The hours on the digital alarm clock on the nightstand next to her head throbbed in the darkness, allowing her to see one o’clock, two o’clock, three, four, all the while, the same doubts and worries reverberated around in her head. She worried about Mulder. What if he was dead? What if they were all dead? If that was the case, how would she ever find out? Would this be it? Would this be her existence for months and years on end? She knew she would never give up, never stop waiting for him. But this life wasn’t just hers, it would soon become her baby’s too and she knew it wouldn’t be fair. As a newborn, he wouldn’t care, as long as he was fed, rested, clean and loved, he would be happy, but when he started to get older, she knew she’d have to leave. To essentially give up on his father and their friends and move away to somewhere no one would know them and start again. Arousing no suspicion, being of no significance to anyone else.

Then there was the matter of the birth, something that Scully had been so ready for, so sure of, just weeks earlier. Having contacted a friend from medical school, Scully had begun to read more about the benefits of natural childbirth and natural pain-relieving methods. These were things that she was well-aware of due to her medical training but had never been something she had needed to think of in terms of herself and her own preferences. Helena, a gynecologist passionate about natural deliveries, had spent hours on the phone with Scully, helping her to write her birth plan, recommending a quaint, gentle birth centre in D.C. and, eventually, coaxing a nervous Mulder into seeing how beneficial it would be for Scully and their baby. While driving to Democrat Hot Springs, she had wondered whether they would be able to do it, just the two of them. Since Mulder left, she had wondered whether she would be able to do it alone.

A day earlier, Scully had lost her mucus plug and had a very small bloody show. She had prepared herself for what was to come, though, being as realistic as she so famously was, she knew that it could still be a while before the baby was born. When the contractions in her back started to become more painful, she allowed herself some time to mourn, to grieve for the birth she had envisioned, before steeling herself for the time ahead, knowing that she had no choice but to be strong and practical.

It was then, on a yellow Thursday morning in the middle of nowhere, that Scully stood on a back porch that wasn’t hers, shifting from one foot to another, rocking her baby and cradling a mug of tea in her hand. As she swayed, she made a mental list of the preparations that she would make that day for her baby’s arrival. She would need to think of everything, ensure that everything was to hand while she was still able to move as freely as she could. Pressing down below her bump, Scully could feel that her son’s head was engaged and in a perfect position for birth.

“Just stay right where you are,” she breathed, rubbing as he kicked up towards her rib cage. “Stay this way and we’ll be just fine, little boy.”

She finished her tea and retreated back into the kitchen and placed the mug in the dishwasher. Scully prepared herself a breakfast of eggs and toast, followed by a bowl of fruit and a glass of water, knowing how important it was going to be to keep her energy levels up.

Throughout the morning, Scully prepared her birth space. As she gathered and arranged, she couldn’t help but note how primal she felt, nesting like a wild animal. Having decided on the upstairs bathroom for the practicality of the running water and the easily cleaned surfaces, Scully piled all the towels, blankets and pillows the house held into the small space. She collected buckets and bowls, cloths and flannels, easy, dry snacks and lined three large bottles of water up along the windowsill. She sterilised clothes pegs and scissors to clamp and cut the cord and tucked three rolls of bin bags under the sink.

Standing back, Scully observed the room. She closed her eyes and felt like crying at the fact she would have to perform her own after care having just given birth, but quickly pulled herself together. Breathing deeply, Scully felt another contraction starting in her back and travelling round to her front, she placed one hand on the doorframe she stood under and rocked through the discomfort. It was the strongest one yet. She knew she had little time to feel sorry for herself. The baby was coming and he needed her to be strong.

***

“I wonder who he’s going to be,” Mulder mused.

Scully giggled and smoothed the flop of his hair to one side.

“You need a haircut before he’s born,” she told him. “And a shave.”

“I do?” Mulder asked from his position between her splayed legs.

They were lying on her bed, Scully on her back and Mulder on his front, propped up on his forearms with his stubbly chin lightly resting on the upward slope of the mountain of their soon to be born baby. He grasped Scully’s thighs and pulled her down towards him, draping himself fully over her stomach, holding his weight on his forearms and knees and nuzzling at the peak of her belly where he could feel the kicks.

“Mulder, stop!” Scully laughed, pushing his head gently. “I need to roll over, he’s too big for this.”

Mulder pulled her up and then knelt at the foot of the bed and watched as Scully partook in the complicated art of pillow arrangement at forty weeks pregnant. Finally, she settled on her side with two smaller cushions wedged between her knees.

“Lie with me,” she requested.

“I daren’t disturb anything,” Mulder chuckled at the impressive structure she had created for herself.

“You won’t. Spoon up behind me, I want to be held.”

He joined her on his side, in the centre of the bed and carefully slotted himself around the curve of her body, taking care not to jostle anything that may cause her discomfort.

“This is nice,” Scully sighed, smiling as she felt him kiss the back of her neck. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I know, honey. I’m here now, not going anywhere. I promise.”

***

Scully sucked in a long breath, the air whistling through her gritted teeth as she released it. She was holding onto the kitchen counter top, her fingers white at the peak of the contraction. Rising higher and higher onto her toes as the pain intensified, she pressed her eyes closed and tried to put some of the visualisation techniques she had been practicing throughout her pregnancy to good use. She imagined that she was riding a wave and the wave built steadily as the contraction crested and she found herself balancing on the very tips of her toes, pushing into the wooden surface hard with the palms of her hands. As the tightness started to release her, she pictured the ocean in her mind beginning to calm as she lowered herself back onto the soles of her feet, softening her arms, relaxing her muscles until the wave became a ripple.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, opening her eyes and rubbing at her son’s restless kicks. “You’re really coming, aren’t you?"

Steadying herself, Scully took a long drink of water and wondered what to do next. Her contractions were becoming closer together and she couldn’t help but think about what she would do if Mulder was with her. At this point, she imagined them wrapping up in their coats and scarves and walking slowly, hand in hand, around the vast space of land that surrounded the property. She looked out the window at the frosty Spring morning and decided that she would take the walk herself.

Stepping out into the crisp air, Scully didn’t make it far before she was leaning over the porch railings, visualising the rolling wave sweeping through her as she moved up and down on her toes through her pain. She did consider beginning to time the contractions, but she soon realised it would be a pointless, distracting exercise as she had no option but to keep going, whether they were one minute apart or one hour. Instead, Scully chose to rely on her body’s cues to tell her what she needed to do.

Taking slow, steady steps, Scully walked the perimeter of the house, unwilling to venture too far, but revelling in the cool air on her face and the sound of sparrows twittering in the trees around her. She admired the simplicity of the house for the first time, something she had never considered in the two weeks and one day she’d spent there. It was understated, modest; discrete and subtle, really the perfect home for her, Mulder and their baby.

She continued to waddle aimlessly, relaxed for the first time since she had arrived there, knowing that, whatever happened, she would meet her son soon. With that in mind, everything else seemed to fade away. She no longer felt under threat and paranoid. She had been home alone for fifteen days, way past the time her son was to be born and that morning was the first time she had ventured outside since she arrived with Mulder. Surely, if they were watching her, surveilling the house, someone would have entered to investigate, to attempt to take the baby, thinking it had been born. But there had been nothing, no one, and Scully felt almost fully at ease.

As if reading her mind, the baby gave her a firm nudge from within. She smiled and pressed lightly on the outline of the little foot that bulged against her taught skin.

“I know, it’s okay,” she said to him. “Thank you.”

Scully made her way back inside, not wanting to tire herself out, knowing that she had a long day ahead of her. She brewed a small cup of tea and settled for lying on the couch for a while, squeezing the checked throw that was draped over the back of it and concentrating on breathing rhythmically through each contraction.

***

She shivered when Mulder pressed the icy pack into her cotton covered sacrum.

“No, I definitely think the hot one,” she said, squirming against the sensation.

Mulder nodded, tongue between his teeth as he concentrated.

They had managed to squeeze themselves onto a small, rectangular mat on the floor of a room at Northeast Georgetown Medical Centre, a building that they were both extremely familiar with due to the number of hospitalisations they had accumulated between them over the duration of their partnership. Scully was sitting back on her haunches, palms open and flat against the mat with Mulder positioned behind her, swapping the ice pack for a heated one.

“That feels so good,” she sighed. “Move it a little higher and press hard.”

Mulder did as she asked and had to brace himself when she began to press back into the warm pressure he was applying.

“Oh my god, that’s it,” she moaned.

“Scully,” Mulder smirked, blushing slightly and looking around at the nine other couples around them.

“I don’t care,” Scully told him, unabashed. “You can sit there and do this all the way through labour.”

“Whatever you need.”

Mulder switched palms and used his free hand to move some fallen strands of hair from the back of her neck.

They were attending their third Lamaze class, which had a focus on partner support, natural pain-relieving methods and positions for labour. Mulder was well aware that they were purely there for his benefit; Scully had meticulously researched every possible birthing scenario and had delivered a few babies herself- she knew the drill. What she didn’t need was him reduced to a babbling, awkward wreck at the birth centre, so he knew he had better pay attention.

“So this is one to add to the list?” Mulder confirmed.

“Mmm, put it at the top,” Scully sighed.

Mulder ran his hand over her shoulder and down her arm, removing the pad from her back as he did so.

“Shall we try the hip squeezes next?” he suggested.

“Yeah,” Scully nodded.

She moved forwards onto her hands and knees and squinted her eyes slightly as Mulder encased her sides with his hands, which were pleasantly warm from the heated pad.

“Lower, Mulder, they’re called hip squeezes.”

“You think that’d give me a clue,” Mulder laughed.

He moved his hands to grip Scully’s hips and applied gentle, tentative pressure.

“Harder, Mulder,” Scully demanded. “You won’t hurt me.”

“Alright, alright,” Mulder breezed.

“I’m serious, Mulder, you’re going to have to get this right before we’re doing it for real. I can’t imagine I’ll have this much patience for you when I’m in transition.”

“I’ll get my practice in before the big day. You’ll just have to be available for me to practice on until I get it right.”

At that, the instructor regathered the group and began to talk about the benefits of keeping upright and mobile during labour. Scully relaxed back into Mulder’s chest and squeezed his forearm appreciatively when she felt him slide their pillow between them to support her lower back.

“Do you think we’ll get through another week without having to see the video?” Mulder whispered in her ear.

Scully rolled her eyes.

“It’ll have to happen one day, Mulder. This is our third class, so it’ll be soon.”

“Even the _thought_ of it makes me feel icky,” he murmured.

“Icky? Mulder…” Scully trailed off, exasperated.

“I know…” Mulder said, acknowledging how ridiculous he must sound. “I can’t help how I feel.”

“And what about the two of you at the back?” Debbie, their instructor, drew them back into the moment. “Fox, any thoughts on how you’re going to keep Dana’s spirits up throughout the labour and birth?”

“Oh, erm…” Mulder shifted slightly, trying to arrange his face into an expression that conveyed he had been paying his utmost attention throughout the group discussion he had completely zoned out on. “Well, Scu- Dana and I are pretty good in that respect. In fact, it’s an area we specialise in. As long as we’re together there’s nothing we can’t tackle head on with a few jokes along the way. Besides, Dana is the strongest person I’ve ever met. I know she’s going to be incredible and I’ll be there for her and doing whatever I can through it all…”

***

She had lit the fire in the living room downstairs, knowing that the heat would travel upwards and into the bathroom if she kept the door open. The house had a boiler and a radiator in every room, but the smell and the crackle of a fire was always something that calmed Scully. It made her think of her childhood home and feel safe.

The pain was ever-increasing and, after a brief nap, Scully had spent the rest of the morning and then the afternoon pacing around the house, forcing herself to walk up and down the stairs as many times as she could along the way. Still, her labour continued into the evening, where she begun to close herself off from any external distractions. She initially switched the TV on to have the noise in the background act as a distraction, but eventually the noise became too much and she turned it off with a hard press to the button. The same went for the lights. As the sky began to darken, Scully had switched the overhead lights on, but when the contractions kicked themselves up a notch and started coming closer together, the big lights went off and the lamps came on. Still, she preferred to stick to the darker, poorly lit outskirts of the rooms as she swayed and groaned her way through each pain.

“Oh, god!” she moaned, slumping over the back of the couch, her head resting gratefully on the cushions.

She bent her knees slightly and tried to relax every area of tension in her body as much as possible.

Her visualisations had changed. The wave had been replaced by a pair of warm, steady hands that would soothe various parts of her body throughout each contraction. She imagined the feeling of the hands, of Mulder’s hands, calming her tensed calves, rubbing her knotted shoulders, smoothing her crinkled brow. His gentle, settling breath would disturb the flyaway hairs of her unruly ponytail as he whispered continuous words of encouragement and affirmations of love. He would tell her she was doing it, that he loved her, that everything would be okay and sometimes, when she was really concentrating, she would believe that he was there, with her, just like he promised he would be.

“We can do this,” she told her son, voice shaking with emotion. “And when your dad comes back to us, he’ll be so surprised that you’re here.”

She straightened and pressed her fingers into various points of her stomach, encouraging movement from her baby. He responded with a few strong kicks, protesting the disturbance, assuring her that he was faring well through the labour. Their labour.

“I’m sorry, honey, I just need to know you’re still with me,” Scully said, eyes flying shut and thighs widening as she felt it begin to build again. “Oh, shit, another one already…”

She took a long breath in and out to centre herself as the contraction built. Widening her stance, Scully bent her knees once more and palmed the back of the couch, swaying slightly and vocalising as she felt she needed to, feeling her throat vibrate more harshly as she felt a sudden, significant shift. The baby’s head plummeted further down into her pelvis, like a boulder tumbling down a hill, and Scully cried out at the sensation, at the shock of the pop and the sudden release of pressure. She gasped and looked down with wide eyes as amniotic fluid soaked the grey, cotton pyjama pants of Mulder’s that she had decided to labour in.

“Fuck!” she gasped, instinctively cupping herself upon feeling her son drop even lower.

A rush of heat consumed her and Scully felt as if she was being scorched from the inside out as she pulled off the Elvis t-shirt she had bought Mulder for Christmas four years earlier. Gingerly, she slid down the cotton pants as she felt the pain ease and pulled the tough membrane of her amniotic sac from the inside of her right thigh. Wiping herself down as well as she could, she crossed the space and tossed the garments into the kitchen sink, before heading towards the stairs that would lead her to the bathroom, completely naked, heart hammering as she went.

Gratefully, Scully reached the summit of the wooden staircase and clutched the spindles as she contracted again, feeling the fluid continue to leak from her each time her body tightened uncontrollably. As the latest contraction waned, Scully reached a shaky hand down between her legs, using her fingers to attempt to assess how close she was to meeting her baby. She didn’t have to delve too far at all before she met the heavy mass of the head, only two knuckles deep.

“Oh, thank god,” Scully sobbed, her emotions unexpectedly overwhelming her upon realising she was closer to giving birth than she thought she was.

Earlier in her labour, Scully had decided to try not to check her dilation and the progress of her baby internally, lest she become discouraged by a lack of progress. However, the feeling of the baby’s soft, damp hair and the fact that his head was so low, provided her with the determination she needed to carry on.

On wobbly legs, Scully entered the bathroom and immediately knelt in the nest of towels she had prepared for herself in front of the sink, earlier in the day. The light from the landing cast an almost romantic glow in the small, cosy space and Scully breathed deeply, feeling awash with calm, with the certainty that she was safe and she was doing exactly what she needed to do to birth her baby.

Her shoulders fully relaxed in the almost darkness, her jaw slackened as she drifted into a gradual slumber, head resting against the cool body of the sink, hands holding her stomach, feeling her son’s now smaller movements as he found himself squashed and restricted in the birth canal. Everything she needed was within arms reach and Scully knew that she next time she left her protective cocoon of the upstairs bathroom, it would be with her baby, Mulder’s baby, in her arms.

***

He pottered around nervously, straightening the tea towel on the radiator, flicking the kettle on to boil again so that he would be able to scorch the tea bag at the exact moment Scully waddled into the kitchen. She was thirty nine weeks pregnant and uncomfortable, impatient and, if he was being honest with himself, terrifying.

He heard the lock of the bathroom door release, his cue to pour the water and try to arrange himself as casually as possible next to the draining board of washed pots.

“Good morning,” he smiled genuinely, warmly as she approached, wearing a dress that resembled a large, floral tent.

“Morning,” Scully replied shortly, opening the fridge and taking out the carton of orange juice.

Reflexively, Mulder swiped a glass from the draining board and slid along the worksurface with it in his hand, landing perfectly in front of Scully.

“Jesus, Mulder!” she gasped, narrowing her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Just getting you a glass. No tea this morning?”

“Uh, no,” Scully wrinkled her nose. “I’m sick of the smell of it and there’s no proof that it actually induces labour anyway, it’s most likely an old wives’ tale.”

Mulder kicked himself internally for buying three more boxes of the raspberry leaf concoction, for reading and believing the stupid internet forum to begin with.

“Juice is good though,” he enthused. “Full of Vitamin C, plenty of potassium for energy…”

He trailed off upon seeing her eyebrows creep up towards her hairline.

“What’s going on, Mulder?” Scully asked, taking a swig from her glass.

“Nothing, I’m fine. Just making sure you have everything you need, trying to make you as comfortable as possible.”

“You know there’s only one way you’re going to make me feel even slightly better,” Scully informed him.

“Anything,” Mulder replied, with the eagerness of a puppy.

“Get this baby out of me.”

His face fell.

“We’ve been trying to do that for the last week, Scully. I’m doing my best.”

“I know,” Scully acknowledged, averting her eyes guiltily.

Mulder edged closer with caution and slowly stroked down the back of her neck with the tips of his fingers.

“How about we have a day just for us,” he suggested. “I’ll call in sick and we can do whatever we feel like doing, as long as we don’t run into Skinner on his lunch.”

Scully looked up at him and smiled for the first time in days, draping her arm loosely around his waist as he continued to tickle her neck, just how she liked it.

“I’d love that,” she said.

“I’ll call Skinner and change; you drink your juice and have a think about what you’d like to do.”

Scully nodded and moved to lower herself down onto a chair at the kitchen table. She smiled softly as she watched him walk into her bedroom, their bedroom now. Mulder had moved his clothes, books, CDs and, of course, his fish, into her apartment three weeks earlier and she had never felt so content. The tank hummed away in the corner of the living room and she briefly wondered about all the possessions he had placed in storage. He would have to sell or donate them, there was no way they would be able to squeeze anything else into the space. She doubted he’d mind though, in fact, she missed his apartment more than he did.

They started with breakfast at a place that, in Scully’s opinion, served the greatest pancakes in the world. Mulder looked on, besotted, as Scully munched her way through their ‘premier stack’ with all the trimmings, running her finger around the syrupy remains of her plate afterwards.

“You’re amazing,” he said, his eyes practically morphing into big, beating hearts.

He knew he’d never been more in love with her than he was in that moment.

“Greedy, more like,” Scully shrugged, leaning back in her chair and patting her stomach with a satisfied smile.

Mulder shook his head, nudging her knee under the table with his own.

They ordered another drink each before they set off, hand in hand, in the direction of a baby boutique Scully had admired from afar over the course of her entire pregnancy.

“Look at all of this,” Mulder grinned, noting the shine in Scully’s eyes.

“I’ve wanted to come in and pick some things out for months.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Mulder picked up the tiniest shoe he had ever seen with his index finger.

“Because I didn’t have you.”

Scully smiled sadly up at him.

“You have me now,” Mulder assured her. “And I’m so excited, Scully. I never thought this would be me. I never thought I’d have you and we’d be doing this. That you’d be having my baby.”

“Oh, Mulder, for god’s sake,” Scully sniffed, feeling herself beginning to well up.

“It’s true, Scully, this is everything.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her in for a kiss.

“Why don’t we pick something each, you go that way,” he pointed in the opposite direction. “And I’ll head over here. Meet you at the checkout.”

She nodded, kissing the front of his shoulder before parting from his chest and carefully manoeuvring herself between the narrow displays of little dresses and baby hats.

Mulder soon found himself to be in his element as he tried to choose just one outfit for his son. He had never envisioned himself having children, being a father, never mind baby shopping and actually enjoying it. Scully and her mother had bought all the newborn essentials, big and small, and Reyes had helped Scully paint the nursery; Doggett had assembled the pram and crib. When Mulder returned, he returned to a heavily pregnant partner and a nursery that was ready to go. He had missed so much but refused to allow himself to wallow. Scully had buried him and faced life as a single mother head on, she had thought about the day she would have to tell their boy that his father was dead. She had told him that a week after he had returned to her and they had made love for the first time since his abduction. She had cried big, salty tears onto his chest as she told him how lonely she had been.

Mulder blinked hard, before jumping when he felt her hand on his waist.

“Sorry,” she breathed. “You’ve been over here for a while now and I wanted to see if you were okay.”

He looked down at the outfit she had selected: little sand coloured shorts with braces and buttons with pleats on the front and a white shirt, complete with a grandad style collar and short sleeves.

“There are poppers so we don’t have to completely undress him to change him,” Scully showed him.

“I love it, Scully.”

She smiled at him.

“What have you chosen?”

“I’m trying to decide between this… and this.”

He held up his two selections: a grey knitted cardigan and leggings set, and a onesie embroidered with blue whales and waves.

“This one,” Scully said, touching the grey wool affectionately. “It’ll keep him warm.”

Mulder nodded and hung the whales back on the rail.

They paid and exited the shop, Mulder swinging the shopping bag in one hand and offering his free arm to Scully as they meandered along the busy pavement.

***

Midnight passed while Scully howled through her contractions. Still on her knees, her nude body glowered an angry red as she did everything she could to encourage her baby to come. The pain completely overwhelmed her and everything she had read and put into practice concerning a calm, gentle birth went out the window as her contractions continued to consume her. There was barely a minute between the pains and she felt as if she was losing her mind.

She vomited harshly into a bucket and sobbed as strings of her saliva hung like spider’s threads from her lips.

“I can’t do it!” she shouted, slamming her hand against the tiles in frustration, whining as she felt another surge begin.

Scully swung herself from side to side, transferring her weight from one knee to the other, squeezing her eyes desperately closed, screaming through the pain, until she was released once more. With her eyes still tightly shut, she lowered a shaking hand to her centre, whimpering pitifully when she felt that her son’s head was still exactly where it had been hours ago. She had made no progress.

Taking deep, forceful breaths, Scully fought to centre herself, to engage her doctor’s brain and think calmly about what she needed to do. What she would suggest to a woman in her position. She knew that she was too tense, her muscles needed to relax to allow the baby to move the rest of the way down. Without Mulder, she knew it would be tough, but she needed to do something and fast; she wasn’t sure how much more her body or her baby could take.

Opening her eyes, she looked around at the bathroom: candle-lit and quiet, the only sound being her ragged panting as she recovered. She looked at the bath thoughtfully and recalled what she had read about the benefits of birthing in water. It was something she had been open to trying at the birth centre, willing to go along with whatever she felt like doing in the moment. She knew that warm water would help her to relax, would support her body and make her feel lighter, thus easing any change of position she needed, it would also soften her tissue and lessen the risk of tearing should she choose to stay in until the end.

She crawled across the bathroom, a small amount of fluid trickling down her thigh as she moved, and hauled herself high onto her knees, leaning to insert the plug and turn on the warm water. Feeling another surge build, Scully was determined to regain control, to not panic and tense up and further prolong the arrival of the baby. She knew she had to be strong, to keep it together. She had no choice.

Puffing determinedly, Scully’s eyes rolled as the contraction peaked and quickly receded. She smiled as she recognised that that one had been the shortest she’d had for hours. Her body had taken pity on her, was giving her a break, preparing her for the imminent pushing stage. She just had to encourage her boy a little lower, to dilate another centimetre. The end was finally in sight.

***

“Really? You’re absolutely sure?”

“Mulder,” Scully huffed with a roll of her eyes. “Just put it in me before I change my mind.”

Mulder chuckled.

“So romantic, Scully,” he whispered in her ear as he draped himself over her back, his nipples skimming her bare skin. “I don’t think this is what they had in mind at Lamaze, but I admire your innovativeness.”

He gave the purple yoga ball she was leaning over an affectionate tap with his palm.

“You’re talking too much,” she breathed, closing her eyes and attempting to grind her bottom against the erection she could feel becoming more prominent behind her.

They were on their bed with Scully on her knees, determined and naked, leaning heavily over the exercise ball, her breasts sticking to the plastic as she shifted impatiently. Mulder, equally as naked, had been hovering and hesitant behind her, having been ambushed upon his return home from work and swiftly stripped of his clothing.

Scully’s due date was on the horizon but she was desperate to get things going as soon as possible, knowing that it was perfectly safe for the baby to be born any time at that late stage. After everything she had been through during her pregnancy, she wanted to do all she could to bring the baby on, to encourage him from the comfort of her womb. So many things had happened during the last nine months, so many traumatic, unspeakable things, that she wanted this to be on her terms, to have this last bit of control.

Plus, there was the fact she hadn’t been in the mood for sex for weeks and she was beginning to feel bad for Mulder. They had only partaken in intercourse twice since he’d returned to her and, being the gentleman he was, Mulder hadn’t complained once. But she knew he had needs, she felt it most mornings, hard and hot against her back as he slept close behind her. She’d heard his muffled grunts behind the bathroom door, despite the showers he ran in an attempt to disguise the sounds of his self-gratification.

“Alright,” Mulder whispered, adjusting his knees and adopting a more secure position.

He kissed the back of Scully’s neck and felt her groan of anticipation vibrate against the plastic surface of the ball. Mulder reached between his legs and jerked himself until he was fully erect, before inserting two fingers into his partner.

“Scully,” he moaned, feeling just how ready she was for him.

“Do it,” she mumbled.

Needing no further encouragement, Mulder guided himself inside, holding onto Scully’s hips and releasing a heavy, satisfied breath as he felt himself slide in deeply with the first thrust.

“Just let me know if you want me to stop,” he told her, his voice trembling with lust.

“Mulder, _please_ ,” Scully insisted.

She rolled herself forwards with the help of the ball, feeling his penis slide almost all the way out, before throwing herself back with a satisfied groan.

“Oh _fuck_!” Mulder gritted out.

Keeping his hands at her waist, he began to thrust with vigour, staring down to admire the extra curves Scully had gained in her thighs and bottom as she moved with him. She gasped appreciatively as she felt one of his hands slip from her hips to her inner thigh, tantalising the flesh there as he slapped noisily into her from behind; both of them equally as vocal as they flew towards orgasm.

“Scully, I really don’t think I’m going to last,” Mulder moaned, biting the inside of his cheek in a bid to stave off his release for as long as he possibly could.

“Me neither,” Scully replied, gripping the plastic with her fingers for all she was worth.

Her cheek was pressed into the tacky purple, her eyes closed, brow furrowed and cheeks so seductively pink as Mulder applied perfect pressure to her clitoris.

“That’s it, Mulder, I’m there!”

Mulder bucked forwards and finished with a harsh grunt as he felt her tighten around him, groaning as she climaxed and flopped down onto the exercise ball. Mulder smiled, easing himself to rest over her for a moment, skin to skin, lips against her sweaty shoulder blade, hands cradling her stomach and feeling their son’s energetic kicks as he basked in the oxytocin that was practically emanating from his mother.

“Stay right there,” Scully ordered, snaking an arm back and around his waist, digging her fingers into his still spasming behind.

“Mmm,” Mulder sighed, closing his eyes. “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

***

She inhaled slowly and rotated her hips in wide, gentle circles. Scully held herself in a deep squat, supported by the ecstasy of the warm water that cradled her as she moved, round and round, sinking right down into the contraction.

She had been in the deep, spacious bath for over two hours and the warmth had had an instantly calming affect on her. She felt fully in control again, with the water acting as the perfect soother for her throbbing back. The baby was moving further down each time she checked his position and she was finally fully dilated, all she needed was the urge to push.

Opening her eyes, Scully checked the thermometer she was using to keep an eye on the temperature of the water, ensuring that it remained at body temperature to give her son a smooth transition from her body and into the water. She took a long drink from the water bottle she had positioned on the edge of the bath and turned the cool wash cloth over before returning it to its place on the back of her neck. Taking the opportunity to rest, she lowered her head down onto her arms, which she folded over the porcelain in front of her.

“It’s okay, baby,” she hummed, feeling her son squirm restlessly. “You’ll be here soon; all is well.”

She sucked in a lungful of air, as, on cue, another surge started to build, bringing with it an entirely new sensation. Scully grunted unexpectedly, unable to control the primal need that had suddenly taken over her entire being. Her eyes shot open and bulged as she experienced her second involuntary push, sinking right down as far as her knees would permit, spine straightening and chin tucking down towards her chest. Scully’s body heaved for a third time, then a fourth, before she was visibly able to relax and slide back down onto her arms.

“Oh my god,” she laughed, cupping her stomach as she caught her breath.

Scully had read about the fetal ejection reflex and spontaneous, unguided pushing and had, of course, discussed both extensively with Helena, but nothing could have prepared her for the actual experience of it. The way in which her body seized and pushed, rendering her powerless to do anything other than grunt along with it.

Her second round of pushes left her smiling. She hadn’t expected it, but Scully actually enjoyed the feeling of pushing, it felt good, the hugely gratifyingly sense of relief she felt knowing that she was actually working to bring the baby down and out. It felt good to throw some force behind the sensation, to feel the baby inch his way down slowly but surely.

***

Another hour passed and Scully was on her feet, standing in the water with her palms flat against the wall she had turned towards. She swayed from side to side in between contractions and pressed her hands into her thighs when her knees bent and her head bowed around another set of pushes. Scully had well and truly found her rhythm and was at a point where she could feel progression every time she bore down. She ensured that she kept her sounds low and deep and couldn’t help but liken herself to a farm animal, as long bouts of throaty noises emerged from her mouth when her body heaved and shook while she strained.

The pitch of her vocalisations rose and she found herself suddenly needing to hold back a little, her eyes beginning to stream and her right hand flying to her opening as she felt herself bulge for the first time. An impossibly long pushing contraction had encouraged the top of her son’s head to emerge slightly, before sliding back inside as her contraction waned.

“Oh!” Scully gasped, her eyes spilling tears down her ruddy red cheeks, relieved at the fact the end was well and truly in sight.

She knew she had to make a decision about where she wanted to birth her baby: in the water or out of it. She knew that she couldn’t carry on as she was- squatting in the water or standing to bear down as and when she felt like it. Once the baby’s head was born out of the water, she couldn’t squat and birth the rest of him in the water. Similarly, she knew she wouldn’t be able to push the baby out while standing in the bath, fearing the possibility of slipping or feeling a need to kneel or squat once the head emerged. The idea of stepping over the edge of the bath and onto the floor with a baby’s head between her thighs was not something that appealed to her at all.

Considering how shaky her legs had become, Scully decided to return to the water, relishing in the warmth once more. The temperature was still perfectly safe for her newborn and the relief it offered Scully as she sunk down once more was incomparable. She breathed slowly, her body heaving and clenching down as another contraction built.

The tip of the baby’s head emerged again only this time, as it did so, Scully gritted her teeth and pushed harder, determined not to let him retreat once the pressure lifted. She groaned in frustration as, sure enough, the pressure subsided, the contraction ended and her son slid back inside once more.

“Come on, honey,” she begged. “Work with me! Please come out!”

Centring herself, Scully took another swig of water and focused on preparing herself for her next push. She didn’t have to wait long before she was moaning in earnest again and feeling the crown of the head fight to be freed. Scully gasped, sucking air into her lungs as her eyes flew open and she felt the harsh sting of the ring of fire.

“Oh _fuck_!” she shouted. “Oh my _god_!”

With gritted teeth and streaming eyes she cupped the baby’s emerging head and quickly recalled what she knew about this stage of delivery: she would need to stop pushing and allow her son to do the work for her to avoid tearing. The insatiable urge to push was still there and she momentarily considered disregarding what she knew to be right and giving in to the sensation, but the prospect of the injury and damage that may ensue deterred her and instead she panted through the contraction.

“Oh, baby!” Scully began to cry as she felt him slowly begin to be born into her hand.

Slowly, slowly, Scully traced the features of her son’s face as he emerged during one long contraction- his eyebrows, nose, lips and then finally the pop of his chin. She groaned when the boy began to rotate in a bid to free his shoulders before the surge ended.

“One more,” Scully mumbled. “We can do it, honey, just one more and we’re done.”

Pressing her forehead into the rim of the bath to support herself, she lowered both hands to her son’s head, braced to receive him as soon as he was ready to be born.

It took nearly five minutes for the last expulsive effort to come, with Scully even being able to nod off for a short while as she waited. Her eyes sprung open when she eventually felt her abdomen tighten and the baby twist that last little bit. Determinedly, Scully grunted and bore down so hard she thought the blood vessels in her eyes would burst, then, after one, two, three more hard, noisy pushes, she felt something release between her legs and the sudden rush of relief as she bore her baby in the depths of the water.

Whimpering, Scully opened her eyes and looked down to see her son, still submerged but with his eyes fully open, blinking up at her. She began to sob with relief as she slowly lifted him to the surface, where he wailed indignantly as the sensation of the air hitting his face took him by surprise.

“Oh my god,” Scully cried. “You’re here; we did it!”

The baby was immediately alert and spluttering when Scully awkwardly shuffled around to lie back in the deep water and rested him against her chest. She ensured the majority of his body was under the water and that his head was resting comfortably on her right breast as she soaked him in. After blindly reaching for and retrieving a large towel, Scully covered the now screeching baby but kept one hand beneath the cotton and on his wrinkled little back to rub the thick layer of vernix he was born with into his skin.

“Maybe you weren’t as late as I thought,” Scully hiccupped, smiling down at the mewling boy. “I can’t believe you’re finally here, honey… You did so well, I’m so proud of you.”

She patted and rubbed at his back, encouraging him to cough up as much of the fluid as he could, while she cooed down at him and forced herself to reign in her emotions, knowing that her work was still not done and she needed to remain vigilant. It wasn’t long before the baby boy began to root restlessly at her breast, something Scully knew would encourage her placenta to come. And so, with as much strength as she could muster, she hauled herself into a seated position, thankful for the long cord that connected her to her baby, and which made it easier for her to manoeuvre herself around and to her feet. Scully kept one arm firmly around the newborn and used the other hand to grip at the tiled wall for support while she ever so slowly stepped over the edge of the bath and made a few heavy steps across the room and into the nest of pillows, blankets and towels she had put together for them the previous day.

With the pillows stacked high against the wall, Scully hummed appreciatively at the comfort as she sunk down into them, draping a dry towel, followed by a thick blanket over the top of herself and her baby.

“Alright, let’s give this a shot,” Scully beamed down at him, her salty cheeks plump with pregnancy.

She repositioned the boy in her arms and guided her darkened, engorged nipple into his mouth, watching with glimmering eyes as he licked at the flesh, grunting with impatience. Fifteen minutes passed and, after many persistent efforts from both Scully and her son, her eyes widened as she felt the tell-tale tug of a perfect latch. She gasped at the sensation, not expecting it to feel as intense as it did as her son suckled away at her eagerly, mouth wide open.

“There won’t be much there for you yet, baby,” Scully told him. “But we’ll get there, we’ll get you all fed up.”

With the baby feeding happily, Scully allowed herself to relax further into the pillows behind her, closing her eyes and smiling as she felt and inhaled the heat from the fire that was still burning downstairs, something she hadn’t noticed as she laboured through the night and into the early morning.

A further twenty minutes passed until Scully’s contractions returned with vigour, surprising her with how strong they were. With a grunt and on legs that felt like jelly, she heaved herself back into a wobbly squat, missing the support of the water and taking care not to jostle the baby as she did so. Using one hand, Scully pulled an already unravelled bin liner and spread it over the top of the towels beneath her. Led by her returning urge to push, she was able to birth the placenta in three strong pushes and lowered herself to her knees behind the large, bloody organ until the baby had finished nursing and began to nuzzle exhaustedly into her chest.

Scully peeled her sated son away from her sticky skin and lay him down, bare, next to the placenta, knowing that the heat of the house would keep him sufficiently warm enough while she worked. Blood trickled gradually down her legs as she made her way across the bathroom to pluck the sanitised pegs and scissors from the window ledge. Glancing at the bloody mess that still filled the bath, she assured herself that the water would have diluted the blood that had left her during the birth, making her bleeding look significantly worse than it actually was. Unfazed, Scully pulled the plug and allowed it all to wash away, before glancing at the now stained sheets she had been resting on, noting with relief that her bleeding was normal and minimal.

She returned to kneel before the baby, who had become restless during the seconds she was away from him, and squeezed the limp, white cord that still connected him to his placenta. The appearance of her healthy, pink son alone indicated that he was thriving from the blood he had gained through the delayed cutting of the cord and so she briefly clamped and snipped it without a second thought. She triple-bagged the placenta and placed it by the bathroom door, before fitting a tiny newborn nappy onto the baby and wrapping him in another clean, warm towel, kissing his forehead and placing him on the cushioned surface beneath them.

Grimacing, Scully leant to rinse out the bath as best she could and stepped in, this time turning on the overhead shower to rinse herself down and, with a lot of willpower and the comforting knowledge it would make her feel human again, washed and conditioned her mangled, stiff with sweat hair. As she took care of herself, the baby nodded off, full, warm and safe while he waited for his mother.

After she dried herself off, Scully tentatively retrieved a hand mirror from the cabinet above the sink and curiously used it to help her examine between her legs. She winced as her fingers made gentle contact with her sore centre, the visual aid of the mirror allowing her to deduce that, despite birthing a large baby, she had managed to get through it without tearing. With a relieved smile, Scully eased herself into a ready pair of her heavily padded underwear, another one of Mulder’s t-shirts and his red, checked pyjama bottoms, before scooping up her baby, her water and her snacks and ambling steadily towards the bedroom.

They partook in another feed as soon as they settled into the pre-prepared bed.

“Your name is William,” Scully told her boy, stroking his cheek softly. “Your daddy likes the idea of his boy, Will… and I like the idea of honouring both of your grandfathers.”

William gazed up at her, absorbing his mother’s tired features with his watery blue irises.

“He’ll be home soon, I promise you,” Scully whispered, her head tilting to one side in pure exhaustion. “He’s never let me down, not once.”


End file.
